She wasn’t J U D G I N G, her curiosity had just been P E A K E D.

Time meant nothing to her as she held it in her teeth, hands wrapped around its throat.  But sunlight pried at her eyes and slipped between her fingers proving itself stronger than the pull of sleep, evident that it had been a decent amount of hours, more than she was used to getting, at any rate. And in that state, where the world was muzzy, more shadow than wakeful thought, she snuggled a little further down into the blankets, savouring the warmth. She started to stretch an arm and connected with a solid back, one lacking a scar she knew like she knew her own soul. The previous twenty four hours came flooding back to her in a rush, and very carefully, she pulled herself upright, pushing the tangle of hair from her face. And though they were both fully dressed, she still brought one sheet up in an antiquated sense of modesty as she looked down at her companion.  Bucky was still asleep, as far as she could tell, and some of the bruises under his eyes from lack of rest seemed to have faded. He looked more than vulnerable then, and impossibly young. But at least he was still alive, and still there, things she feared when she finally fell asleep the night before, her mind heavy with all the things they’d talked of. She resisted the urge to stroke his hair away from his face, resisted pulling the covers up over his shoulder and tucking him in, out of a very real sense of fear that doing so would wake him. And if there was anyone who deserved the peaceful oblivion of peace more than she wanted it, it was him. With agonizing slowness, she slipped out of bed, feel soundless on the cold floor, though she couldn’t help make a face at the first chilly feel of it. At the door, she took one last look and then made her way out. Within the hour, she had showered, dressed, started a fire and was just starting on the coffee. Outside, the world seemed strangely unconcerned about their goings-on. Birdsong trilled outside the window, clouds amassed on the horizon for a late spring storm, which wouldn’t arrive for hours yet. She leaned against the counter and enjoyed the stillness, a quiet moment as her kitchen filled with the smell of coffee ~faint traces of chicory hinting a sweet smokiness to the smell~ and muffins baking in the oven. She would eventually have to go for supplies, but they had a couple days yet. And with any luck, he’d be okay enough for her to do that.

Steve was six when he first met Bucky. It was on the playgrounds after Steve had gotten his ass handed to him again. Bleeding from the mouth he'd looked up into the eyes of a boy who had a solid twenty pounds and at least five inches on him and said those fateful words. "I had him in the ropes." @precise-desolation

“Flavoring is for losers. And adding cream and sugar is a form of weakness. I’m aware that it doesn’t make the coffee any stronger, but being kicked in the face by the taste of liquid assholes certainly wakes me up enough to pretend to be a functioning member of society until the caffeine kicks in.”

Crutches @precise-desolation 

“... Sorry, what? I wasn’t listening.”

He licked his lips, looking for the right words. “I want you to be comfortable. And this isn’t the way to do it. But we gotta fix it now.”

When she reached his face, her gaze was pointed, one brow raised. “As if I could let it end li’dat.” The worst part about it, it was going to have to be her job to take the poor thing into...that place. Just the thought made her sick. It wasn’t like the sweet calico-faced little thing had asked for any of it, and that people were calloused. What had truly sealed the deal was when she held it, and looked into its eyes.  It was all too much, and while she would never have called him her favourite stray, something about the little animal reminded her of him. Beth had simply shoved a credit card at the receptionist behind the desk. She’d picked up everything else she needed. “Truth be told, he’s yours now, if you wan’ him,” and some large part of her hoped he did, but she was prepared to take over if he didn’t. “We have ev’ryt’ing we need take care of him. Except a name.” Explanation done, she waited anxiously for his reaction.